Saving My Love
by This Little Lady
Summary: Finchel AU! Rachel Berry has had feelings for Finn Hudson since the first time she met him. Suddenly she gets a tip that Finn has been captured on his latest mission, will she stop at nothing to rescue her "friend"...even if it means risking her own life?
1. Chapter 1

**This story came from a novel I read online. I've always loved a little bit of action/adventure/romance story and when I read the novel I can't help but imagine Finchel in it. It's going to be divided in two chapters and the next one will be uploaded in a few days. Hope you like it!**

**Completely AU. Rachel and Puck are cousins. Finn was engaged to Quinn. And they all work for the government.**

**If you have questions or comments please feel free to leave a review :)**

**Thanks to for this. Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

Captain Finn Hudson lay sprawled on the cot. Dried blood covered his fists. A purple bruise adorned his right cheekbone above three days' worth of bristling beard stubble. Grime streaked the wild colors of the Hawaiian print shirt he'd donned for the mission. He'd posed as a tourist, but the Juarez Cartel hadn't bought the act. They'd had the local police pick him up. Judging by his appearance, they'd had the cops do more than that.

"_Señor_ Magnum!" The guard rapped his nightstick against the cell bars. "You have a visitor."

The man on the cot didn't move.

For the first time since she'd heard the news from Intelligence yesterday morning, Rachel Berry experienced a surge of pure fear. There hadn't been time before. She'd shoved her emotions aside, finessed her way through a morass of red tape and called in every favor she'd been owed just to get here. Until two minutes ago, she hadn't been sure that the tip they'd received had been legitimate.

But the man in the basement jail of this Central American police station was definitely Finn Hudson. Rachel would know him anywhere, regardless of his appearance. Her heart recognized his presence.

That's because she had been in love with him from the moment they had met.

Dear God, had she gotten here too late?

No! He couldn't be dead. Otherwise, she would have sensed it. She'd known he'd been alive ten years ago, even after everyone else had given up and believed the official story.…

_"It was a training mission. A damn dress rehearsal. They must be wrong."_

_"I'm sorry, Rachel. There's no mistake."_

_"Finn can't be dead. I won't believe it."_

_Noah slid his arm around her shoulders. "He knew the risks. We all do."_

_She leaned into her cousin's embrace. Noah Puckerman was a member of Eagle Squadron. One of the elite commando units of Special Operations Delta, so Rachel was well aware of the dangers soldiers like Finn faced. "Does Quinn know yet?"_

_"I was hoping you'd help us tell her. She's going to need a friend."_

_Yes, Quinn Fabray would need their support. Losing Finn would devastate her. She was, after all, his fiancée._

_And Rachel was Quinn's best friend. So no one, especially Finn, had known of her love for him. She'd been prepared to accept his marriage, because she loved him enough to want him to be happy. Yet she had never been able to accept his death.…_

Finn hadn't died on that training mission. Instead, he'd spent the next six years in a Middle East prison. Thoughts of Quinn, the woman he'd planned to marry, had kept him alive. Then he'd returned home to find she had already married another man.

It was the only time Rachel had seen Finn cry. She'd tried to be there for him, because he'd needed a friend.

Afterward, a friend was all he'd wanted her to be.

As she'd discovered, no prison made of steel or concrete could match the walls that Finn Hudson had built around his heart.

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><p>Rachel dug her nails into her palms and focused on Finn's chest. In spite of his wounds, he appeared to be breathing. She permitted herself a moment of fierce joy. Confirming he was alive had been the hardest part, but the rest wasn't going to be any cakewalk. "These conditions are deplorable. This man needs medical attention."<p>

As she spoke, the rhythm of Finn's breathing seemed to change. Though the cot was in the dimmest corner of the cell, Rachel got the impression his muscles had tensed.

Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part?

"You! Magnum." The guard rapped the bars again. "Get up!"

That was the second time he'd called Finn Magnum. Either that was the alias he was using, or it was a reference to the garish shirt. Rachel suspected it was the shirt. "He's unconscious," she said, switching to Spanish. "He could be in a coma. I insist you bring in a doctor."

The guard grunted a curse, retrieved a mug from his desk and flung the contents through the bars. Liquid that looked and smelled suspiciously like beer spattered on the floor and the side of the cot. Several drops hit Finn's face, but he didn't flinch.

Had she been wrong? Was he worse off than he looked? Rachel withdrew her phone from her suit jacket, forcing herself to concentrate on her role in order to keep the panic at bay. "This is outrageous. I'm calling the American consulate. If you won't provide a doctor, they will."

The guard turned his back on his prisoner to glare at her. "Do not make trouble or you will join your friend. This is not your country. Your government has no power—"

That was all he had time to say. In a blur of motion, Finn leapt from the cot, thrust his arm between the cell bars and hooked his elbow around the guard's throat.

"Finn!" Rachel cried.

He used his other hand to tighten the vise of his elbow, holding the guard suspended against the bars. The man kicked and clawed to no effect before finally going limp. Finn let him drop to the floor and turned his attention to Rachel.

His brown hair stuck up in wild tufts all over his head. Dried blood darkened a split in his lower lip. His hands continued to flex, as if preparing for another fight. He'd never looked more deadly, yet his eyes shone with gentleness. No blood or grime or passing years could dim his appeal for her. It was in the alert spark in his gaze, the stubborn lift of his chin, the strength in his broad shoulders…

"What—" His voice was raw. He tried again. "What the hell are you doing here, Berry?"

No hello. No thank you. Not that she'd expected either. _I'm here because I love you, you idiot._ "Isn't it obvious, Captain Hudson? I came to rescue you."

Finn studied Rachel through the cell bars. "You shouldn't have come. I was doing fine."

"Sure you were. I know how you enjoy confined spaces."

"Dammit, Berry, this was too much of a risk. What were you thinking? To smuggle me out in an ambulance?"

"That was the plan until you decided to take out that guard." She slipped her phone back into her jacket and smoothed her skirt, then grabbed a ring of keys from the desk and tossed them to Finn. "Now we'll need to improvise."

He shoved the fallen guard aside as he opened the cell door. "I didn't have a choice. He threatened to lock you up."

Had he? She hadn't even noticed.

Finn picked up the guard's nightstick, although Rachel didn't think the piece of wood was to be much help against the armed police who stood between them and the way out. He unlocked the door that led to the stairwell and motioned her forward. "How did you get the cops to let you in, anyway?" he asked. "Most of them are on the cartel's payroll."

"Yes they are, so they were already accustomed to the direct approach."

"What's that mean?"

"I bribed my way in."

"Intelligence must want me back bad."

"Don't get a swelled head. I had to take up a collection around your office for the bribe."

"And no doubt you itemized every cent. How much of the cash have you got left?"

"Not enough to outbid the cartel. They've got dibs on your butt."

"It's your butt I'm worried about. What the hell possessed you to—"

She held up her palm. "Do we need to get into that again? I'm just doing my job, Finn."

"No, you're not." He caught her hand. "Your job is behind a nice, safe desk at State. Puck's going to kill me when he finds out what you're up to."

Puck was her cousin's nickname. "Noah already knows. He and the guys were supposed to meet us at the border."

"Couldn't Eagle Squadron get someone else to do their dirty work?"

It was difficult to concentrate on his question when her pulse was racing the way it was now. He was right. She seldom left the comfort zone of her desk at the State Department. Her work was done behind the scenes. She wasn't adventurous like her cousin, or tough like Finn. Whatever injuries he'd sustained from the police beating didn't appear to be affecting him. He stood straight and tall, and his grip on her fingers was strong.

That was another reason for her elevated heartbeat. Regardless of the circumstances, the simple touch of his skin against hers echoed through every nerve in her body. How could he look so good to her when he was such a mess? It wasn't fair. He likely didn't even realize he was still holding her hand.

Or so she thought, until she felt the warmth of his lips on her knuckles.

_Good Lord. Was that a kiss?_

Rachel had learned the hard way not to get her hopes up. Too many years of running into those walls around Finn's heart had made her develop some impressive defenses of her own, so her mind scrambled to find alternate explanations for what she'd just felt. The scab on Finn's lip could have been itchy and he'd rubbed it against her knuckles to scratch it. Or he might have been scratching his beard stubble. Or stress could have made her imagine the whole thing.

After all, why would Finn kiss her hand? That wasn't something he would do to a friend, a pal, a _buddy_ like her. It wasn't something he would do, period. It was too…courtly. Tender. And totally inappropriate considering the fact they were unarmed, outnumbered and hiding in the stairwell of a police station.

Finn was practical. The success of his missions was his priority. It was why he was such a valuable asset to Army Intelligence. She'd been kidding about needing to take up a collection to help him. Of course, he would have known she'd been kidding, because that was the way they always talked to each other. Like buddies.

"On second thought, maybe I'll kill Puck when we get out of here," Finn said.

"What?"

"If he knew you were coming, he should have stopped you."

Finn was regarding her over the top of their joined hands. It was hard to see his expression because his hair had fallen forward again. She licked her free hand and smoothed down his hair. "He couldn't. Apparently, Special Ops was all out of people who could speak Spanish so I had to volunteer. I'm pretty good at it."

Finn snorted. "Right."

"Besides, they promised to pay me overtime."

"Now that explains it." He released her hand. "Hope you held out for double time and a half."

Rachel felt the loss of contact like a cold draft. It helped clear her head. What on earth was she doing? Mooning around like a love–struck teenager because he'd been holding her hand? Not only was that pathetic, it was selfish. There was no time to think about herself.

It wasn't only her fears about Finn's physical condition that had made her pull out all the stops to mount a rescue. Being locked in any jail for even an hour would have to be torture for him. She hadn't wanted him to be haunted by his previous imprisonment. She didn't want him to think he'd been forgotten this time. Enduring those six years of being dead to the world had left plenty of scars, although Finn would be the last person to admit it.

"While I'd love to prolong our stay here so I can put more time on the clock—" she said "—I need to get home to feed my cat. The night shift should be coming on duty any minute now. It could present our best chance to—"

As if on cue, a door squeaked open above them.

Finn jerked his head toward the first floor landing just as a set of leather boots came into view on the stairs. He gestured for Rachel to stay behind him. She got no more than a glimpse of a man in a light brown police uniform before Finn pushed the nightstick through the staircase railing and jabbed it between the man's ankles.

The policeman crashed to the basement floor. The fall only stunned him. Before he could push himself up, Finn tapped him on the side of the head with the nightstick to finish the job. He withdrew the pistol from the holster at the man's waist, then popped out the magazine, checked the ammunition and clicked it back into place. "Okay, let's go," he said as he started up the stairs.

Rachel breathed deeply a few times, hitched up her skirt so that she could step over the downed man and sought to be as matter–of–fact as Finn. "How many bullets are in that gun?"

"Enough."

"I counted more than a dozen men on my way in. If you're hoping to shoot your way out…"

"Not if I can avoid it. I don't want you in the middle of a firefight." He knelt on the third step from the top of the staircase so he could peer beneath the door. He remained as he was for what seemed like an hour, but what could only have been half a minute. Rising to his feet, he crooked his finger at her. "As soon as I open this door, I need you to make a lot of noise."

She paused on the step beside him, a new worry stealing into her mind. Had these few days in captivity already affected his mental state?

As if he'd guessed the direction of her thoughts, a dimple appeared below the bruise on his cheek. It wasn't much of a smile, but on Finn it was as good as a grin. "No, I'm not crazy. Don't you trust me, Berry?"

_With my life, Finn. My heart, too, if only you would take it._ "Why do you want me to make noise?"

He turned her to face away from him, looped his arm in front of her waist and lifted her back against his body. His breath puffed across her ear. "Because I'm abducting you."

Rachel was swamped by sensations. Sometimes, she forgot how large Finn was. She felt almost delicate. He held her suspended effortlessly. From shoulder to thigh they fit together perfectly, as if they'd been made for each other.…

_Don't think about it!_ she ordered herself. She anchored her fingers around his arm and struggled to make sense of what he'd said. "Uh, abducting?"

"Just act scared."

"I won't be acting."

He gave her a squeeze and flung open the door.

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><p>"Nobody move!" Finn shouted in Spanish, waving the gun around the room. He tightened his other arm on Rachel's waist. "Stay where you are or I'll kill her!"<p>

In spite of his threat, several policemen reached for their guns.

Finn fired past their heads, shattering the front window of the police station. The men nearest to it ducked reflexively as glass showered the floor.

Rachel's brain finally lurched into gear. Of course! How else were they going to get past all these weapons? She screamed and fluttered her hands, hoping to ruin the men's aim or at the very least, distract them. She realized Finn's plan wouldn't work for long. Someone was bound to notice that he was doing his best to hold her away from the men's guns instead of using her as a shield. The element of surprise would only buy them a few seconds at most.

It was enough. With her dangling from his grasp like an oversized rag doll, Finn sprinted across the floor. The police belatedly opened fire, but he had already reached the corridor that led to the station's rear exit.

"Put me down!" Rachel gasped. "We'll be able to move faster."

Instead of setting her on her feet, he swung her forward as he released her, giving her a flying start toward the door. "Run!" He turned and fired down the corridor to discourage their pursuers. "I'll catch up to you."

She had no intention of leaving him, but she didn't waste time arguing. A policeman emerged from an alcove beside the door and brought his gun to bear on Finn's back.

Rachel wasn't trained in combat. Not like her cousin or Finn. Or Quinn, the woman Finn had wanted to marry. Most of the battles she fought were against bureaucracy. Words were her weapons. The closest she'd come to martial arts had been a few slow–motion lessons in Tai Chi. So it was nothing but instinct that guided her motions as she lifted her skirt and kicked out.

Her shoe flew off and whirled through the air, but her foot connected solidly with the man's wrist. It knocked off his aim. The bullet burrowed into the wall beside Finn's head.

Finn spun and fired, dropping the man before he could get off another shot. "I told you to get out of here, Berry!"

She shook her head. "Not without you."

He leapt to her side and shoved open the door just as splinters exploded from the doorframe.

Finn squeezed off a few more rounds behind him, then grabbed Rachel's hand and hauled her outside.

The night air was thick with humidity, the buzzing hum of insects and the sound of shouted commands from within the building. A floodlight on the wall beside the door revealed a row of police vehicles surrounded by a chain–link fence topped by coils of razor wire. A gate topped by more razor wire appeared to be the only way out.

Unfortunately, it was chained shut.

Angie couldn't see any way out of the compound, but Finn didn't slow down. She kicked off her remaining shoe to keep up with him as he led her to a van at the end of the row of parked vehicles. He smashed in the driver's window, reached inside and unlocked the door.

She brushed through the crumbs of glass that covered the seat and clambered over the stick shift to the passenger side. She didn't see what he did to the ignition switch, yet she wasn't surprised when she heard the engine turn over. Finn was trained to do whatever it took to accomplish a mission.

The engine roared as the van shot backward.

She risked a peek between the seats. They were accelerating. Through the windows in the rear door she could see the gate coming up fast. Policemen were running toward it, their weapons trained on the van. "Finn, look out!"

He reached over to push her head down. Bullets tore through the back of her seat and punched spiderweb holes in the windshield. Finn spun the wheel, swinging the van in a tight circle as he shifted into a forward gear. The police scattered.

"Hang on, Berry!" he yelled.

The front bumper rammed the gate dead center. Metal screeched and buckled. The chain that held the gate together didn't give, but the vehicle's momentum was enough to tear one side from its hinges. Sparks flew from the undercarriage as they scraped past the fence. An instant later they were clear.

The van hurtled forward. Above the squeal of the tires and the noise of the engine, sirens whined to life. Finn wound through the streets, turning at random, taking full advantage of their head start to put distance between them and their pursuers.

Rachel lost track of time. All she knew was that when he finally slowed to pull into a darkened gas station, she could no longer hear any sirens.

She could hear her pulse, though. It was banging in her ears like thunder.

Finn shut off the engine and twisted to look at her. They had reached the outskirts of town. There weren't any streetlights among the buildings. The only illumination was from the moon, making his battered face seem even grimmer than it had in the jail cell. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Of course, she wasn't okay. They could have been killed. She was so scared, her teeth were chattering. "Just p–p–peachy."

He stroked her hair, then smoothed his palms over her shoulders and down her arms. "Were you hit?"

She wiped her eyes. His touch steadied her. "No. You?"

"I'm fine."

"That was some driving."

"That was some screaming."

She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. "Why did you stop?"

He cupped her chin. "We're out of gas."

She felt a tremor in his hand. He'd said he was fine, but…

"Berry." His voice roughened. He leaned closer.

That's when she saw the fresh blood on his shirt.

Rachel jerked her chin from Finn's grasp to focus on his shirt. Blood glistened in the moonlight that came through the bullet–riddled windshield. "You're hurt!"

He looked at her mouth. "Mmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" She tore open his buttons. Had she thought she'd known fear before? That was nothing compared to the terror that froze her heart now. She spread his shirt apart, dreading what she might find but determined to do something. Anything. They couldn't have gotten this far only for her to lose him now.

"It's no big deal."

Thank God, she could see nothing wrong with his chest. In fact, it was perfect. Beautiful. Broad and muscular, as if sculpted by a master. Although the skin above his ribs on the left side was smeared with blood, there was no hole. "Sure. You're such a tough guy, bullets don't bother you."

"Nope, I get paid extra for them."

His attempt at humor made her vision blur. She blinked to clear her eyes. "Well, that explains your brilliant plan to abduct me. If you'd run any slower, you could have collected enough bullets to retire."

"You're just ticked because you didn't get to drive."

She stretched past the steering wheel to ease the shirt off his shoulder. "We would have been halfway to the border if I had."

"I've seen the way you handle a car. My grandmother gets more speed out of her walker."

Blood beaded along a line that angled across the top of his biceps. His sleeve was ripped. She carefully peeled it farther down his arm, braced one knee on the gearshift console and leaned across him for a better look.

He grasped her hips. She assumed it was to steady her. "Stop fussing," he said. "It's just a scratch. A piece of razor wire came through the window when we rammed the gate."

The line deepened to a ragged gash above his elbow, where a rivulet of blood ran down his arm and soaked into his bunched–up shirt.

Her stomach rolled at the sight. She felt a stinging ache in her own arm. She swallowed hard. "You call that a scratch? Don't be a wuss." She stripped his shirt off completely, tore a wide piece from the side that was dry and wrapped it firmly around his wound. "My cat draws more blood than that."

"Hey, I liked that shirt."

"It was a fashion crime. No wonder the cartel had you thrown in jail."

"Speaking of the cartel, if you're finished playing doctor, I need to get some gas."

"I'll help."

"Stay put. After three days in that basement cell, I could use the air."

She touched her fingertips to his chest. "I understand."

"Yeah, I know you do." He was silent for a while. He pressed his hand over hers, warming her palm against his skin. "Berry?"

"What?"

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"That's what friends are for."

He tightened his jaw, his nostrils flaring as if he were in pain.

Rachel had wrapped the gash on Finn's arm, but how could she have forgotten about his other injuries? Once again, she pulled away from his grasp. "Is it your ribs? The police beat you up pretty badly, didn't they?"

Instead of replying, he shoved his door open and stepped out of the van. He rubbed his face hard, then rounded the hood, walked past the gas pump and disappeared into the shadows of the gas station. She heard the tinkle of breaking glass.

Concerned, she opened her door and followed him. She'd gone only a few feet before she was reminded she'd lost her shoes. She continued across the dirt yard more gingerly. "Finn?"

He emerged from the shadows with a crowbar in his hand. "I thought I told you to stay put."

"I thought you might need help."

"Right, because you're my friend," he muttered. "My buddy."

"Why are you so cranky?"

"You got involved in this situation because of me. It's up to me to get you out. That's what I'm trying to do."

"It was my choice to come. Don't feel guilty."

He returned to the pump. It was an old–fashioned mechanical model. He used the crowbar to pop open the lock and turned it on. "Then don't feel sorry for me."

"Sorry for you?" She moved beside the van on her tiptoes, trying to avoid the rocks in the dirt. "What gave you that idea?"

"I'm no genius like Quinn's husband, but I can recognize a pattern."

Surprise left her momentarily speechless. This was the first time she'd heard him mention the man his former fiancée had married. He'd spoken easily, as if Quinn's desertion no longer hurt, yet how couldn't it? Regardless of how brief this latest imprisonment had been, it must have stirred painful memories of the other one. "Pattern?" she asked.

He started filling the tank. "I realize I was a mess when I came back from the Middle East. I appreciate the way you stood by me. It couldn't have been easy for you, trying to be a friend to both Quinn and me."

No, it hadn't been easy. She'd loved them both, so she'd understood both sides. "I only wanted to help."

"You did. You kept me sane."

It was a perfect straight line, but she didn't even consider making the obvious quip. "It was your own strength that helped you recover, Finn."

"And yet you're still trying to take care of me."

"I'm not."

"You must have pulled strings to organize my rescue."

"Not alone. The guys from Eagle Squadron wanted in on it, too."

"Sure, but you took point. You bandaged my arm and now you worry about my bruises. You've been doing that for four years. I'm a big boy. I don't need your pity, anymore."

I never acted out of pity, Finn. I acted out of love.

The words she'd held inside rose from her heart to her lips.

But there was so much to say, where should she start?

Rachel pressed closer to the van, watching the play of moonlight on Finn's bare shoulders. Even when he did something as mundane as pumping gas, she still couldn't get enough of him. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch him. Her throat was thick with the words she longed to say.

I love you, Finn. I have from the moment we met.

Only, the first time they'd met had been at her best friend's engagement party. Rachel had made herself smile and shake Finn's hand and hoped that no one had noticed how breathless his touch had left her. What choice had she had? The only way she could keep both people in her life was to hide her feelings, which was excuse number one. And they'd seemed happy, providing excuse number two.

I love you, Finn. No matter what they said when you went missing ten years ago, I knew you hadn't died because I felt you in my soul.

When everyone else had been struggling to handle their grief, confessing her feelings would only have caused more pain. A third excuse. She'd been glad when Quinn had gone on with her life and found another man to love, and not just for Quinn's sake. She'd been delighted because it had meant Finn would be free when he returned.

I love you, Finn. If you'd chosen me, I would have waited forever.

But he hadn't chosen her, and he hadn't been free, either. The broken engagement that had delighted her had shattered his faith in love. How could she have revealed that her sympathy for him and the friendship she offered were totally self–serving? She would have lost his trust. Being his friend was the only way she could stay close to him, so she'd accepted the role and had protected her heart with excuses.

Rachel had acquired a vast supply of those. Each one was like a piece of armor—they were heavy to carry, they hampered her freedom, yet they had grown vital to her survival. In its own way, love was as perilous as war.

Finn returned the nozzle to the pump and tightened the gas cap. "Did the team give you coordinates for the rendezvous?"

His tone was all business, as if he were speaking to a fellow soldier. Now, wasn't it a good thing she had that armor on? She withdrew her phone from her suit jacket, punched up the map Eagle Squadron had loaded and held the display toward him.

He grasped her wrist to study the screen.

As always, the sensation of Finn's skin on hers warmed her to her bones. _Oh, Finn. Don't you feel that? Do I really need to tell you?_ She lifted her free hand to smooth his hair. "Finn, I've never pitied you. I…"

Her words trailed off. The tiny red dot from a laser sight was moving across his forehead.

Without another thought, Rachel shoved him backward.

Gunfire erupted from the darkness.

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><p><strong>Do you guys like it? Let me know what you think and expect an update soon! :)<strong>

**xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! As promised, I bring to you the next, and final, chapter of this story. The response and alerts I received were amazing and I am so thankful to each and every one of you who have taken time to read this. Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

**Credit to miss I. Weaver :)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter<strong>** TWO**

Finn wrapped his arms around Rachel's hips and tackled her to the ground. Bullets struck the dirt beside them. He clamped his hand above her elbow and dragged her underneath the van with him. "Slide to the driver's side and get in," he ordered. "I'll distract them."

"No! I won't leave you."

"Dammit, Berry. Just do what I say for once, okay?"

"But I wouldn't be able to start the engine, anyway. There's no key."

"Hell, you think I'd let you drive?"

"Then why—"

"Make you go first?" he finished.

"Yes."

"Because otherwise, I might trample you. Hasn't anyone told you that you run like a girl?"

A bullet struck close enough to send a spray of grit against her bare feet. She pulled herself forward with her elbows and inched past him on her belly. "Fine. Just don't try to do something noble."

He stretched his arm in front of the rear wheel. He appeared to be reaching for the crowbar he'd used to unlock the gas pump. It was lying on the ground half a foot from the van. "No problem. Chivalry is highly overrated."

She hesitated. Self–preservation was trumped by her fear for Finn. "That crowbar's no match for a gun."

"If we had a bullhorn maybe you could talk the cartel's boys to death."

"You don't think they're police?"

"No, there aren't enough of them. And I didn't hear sirens."

He was right. From what she'd seen of the low–budget local authorities, they wouldn't have weapons with laser sights, either. "Where's that pistol you stole?"

"In the van." He wedged his shoulder against the tire and made another quick but unsuccessful snatch for the crowbar. Bullets hit the dirt where his hand had been. "But it's empty," he added. "Just in case you had any ideas about playing Annie Oakley."

She pressed her cheek to the ground to look behind the van. Muzzle flashes pierced the darkness on the far side of the gas station with each round that was fired. They seemed to be drawing nearer. "Finn…"

"Got it!" He finally grabbed the crowbar. An instant later, he sent it skimming across the ground and into the gas pump. The impact knocked the hose loose. Gasoline trickled from the nozzle to the dirt.

A fresh volley of bullets hit the back bumper. One struck the steel frame, raining sparks from the undercarriage.

Rachel looked from the sparks to the spreading puddle of fuel. Understanding dawned. "You're certifiable, Captain Hudson!"

He groped for a rock and flung it at the nozzle. The trickle of gas turned into a gurgling flow. "I do my best."

As quickly as she could, she slithered the rest of the way from beneath the van and threw herself through the open driver's door.

Finn was right behind her. She was still scrambling over the gearshift when he crammed himself behind the wheel.

The engine roared to life just as the gasoline puddle ignited.

Flames _whooshed_ from the gasoline–soaked dirt. "Finn!" Rachel screamed.

"I see it. Brace yourself!" He popped the clutch and fishtailed out of the lot.

Her head hit the roof as the van bounced onto the road. She twisted to kneel on her seat, and looked through the bullet–pocked windows in the rear doors.

The flames had spread along the hose to the gas pump. It was glowing like a torch. The gunfire had stopped. Maybe the men from the cartel had given up.…

The hope was short–lived. A set of headlights appeared on the far side of the gas station. A black SUV burst from the shadows. It was nearly to the street when the station's underground reservoir exploded.

Rachel covered her face with her hand to shield her eyes from the fireball. The force of the blast lifted the rear wheels of the van off the ground. The black SUV was tossed into the air.

Finn slung his arm across her back to hold her in place. "Hang on!"

She hugged the seat. Her teeth clacked together hard as the van thumped back down. The SUV cartwheeled past them, spinning like a giant toy, until it crashed into a palm tree.

Finn swerved around the wreckage and sped out of town.

It took a while for Rachel to uncoil from her crouch on the seat. It took longer for her heartbeat to steady itself. She stared at the empty road in front of them, distantly aware of her scraped knees and ringing ears.

But the physical discomforts meant nothing. Against all odds, they were still alive.

She turned her head to watch Finn drive. The binding over the gash on his left arm was dull with dirt. So was his chest. The bruise on his cheek appeared darker. The moon was beginning to set, so she couldn't see much of his expression. Yet there was enough light to see the gleam of his teeth.

He was smiling. What an impossible man. Before she could stop herself, she punched his shoulder.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"You could have barbecued us!"

"I didn't," he pointed out.

"Remind me never to let you plan a distraction."

"It was spectacular. Admit you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it!" She hit him again. "I should have held out for hazard pay."

He caught her fist in his hand. "Don't worry. With any luck, I'll have you home in time to feed your cat."

She looked at the darkness beyond their headlights. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Sure. You showed me a map on your phone, remember?"

"My cell phone! We must have left—"

"Relax. It's in my pocket." He pulled her phone from his jeans and passed it over.

It still carried the warmth of his body. She swallowed. "Thanks."

"Thanks for pushing me out of the way when the bullets started flying."

"What are friends for?"

Finn's smile faded. He yanked the wheel hard to the right and drove off the road.

Finn steered across a rock–strewn hillside and coasted into what looked like a bean field. Clouds of dust drifted past the headlights. The crest of the hill concealed them from the road. Rachel barely had time to absorb the fact that they were no longer moving before the headlights flicked off, along with the engine.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Why did you stop?"

"Give me a minute."

She laid the backs of her fingers across his forehead. "I could drive for a while if you need a rest."

"I'm not tired."

It sounded as if he had spoken through his teeth. She dropped her hand to his shoulder and found his muscles were humming with tension. She kneaded the knot at the base of his neck. "You've done more than enough. I wasn't counting on your help when I planned this rescue."

"If you believe I would have let you do it alone, then you don't know me at all."

Oh, she knew him. Every proud, stubborn inch of him. "Okay, blowing up the gas station wasn't that bad an idea. I'm grateful for your, ah, creative thinking."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

That was what she'd just said to him, only she hadn't said it as if she were chewing a mouthful of broken glass. Obviously, he was angry. She caressed the place where she'd punched him. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Did it make you feel better?"

She considered the question. Yes, acting on her impulse had made her feel better. She wasn't sure why. "I didn't want to hurt you. I guess I needed a…an outlet."

"An outlet," he repeated. His voice sounded strained.

"Sometimes in tense circumstances, emotions can get confused."

He fisted one hand on the steering wheel. "I'm not confused. I'm thinking more clearly than I have in years."

By now, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Though the moon was almost down, stars still twinkled above the field, lending a silvery sparkle to Finn's eyes. She touched her fingertip to one of the lines that bracketed his mouth. "Don't be angry with me."

"If I'm angry, it's at the situation, not you."

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do, Rachel."

"Then explain it to me. We can spare a few minutes to talk this out. I can feel how tense you…" Her voice trailed off.

He'd called her Rachel.

That was a first. He'd called her Berry from the time Quinn had introduced them. He'd joked that it was to help him remember her. She'd never asked him to call her anything else, because she'd hoped that his use of her surname would mean he would treat her like one of the guys. It also would be a constant reminder to her of the distance she had to keep between them.

But she'd always longed to hear her given name on his lips.

She looked at Finn's mouth.

It was only inches from hers.

Rachel moistened her lips. They tingled. Merely having them so close to Finn's made her breathing hitch. She'd yearned for his kiss for so long, how could she be sure this wasn't more wishful thinking?

She'd kissed him in her dreams countless times. There were no barriers between them then. Cocooned in the safety of sleep, she was free to drop her armor and show him all the feelings she'd been guarding in her heart for over a decade.

Even when she'd been awake, she'd fantasized how his mouth would feel—strong, honest and sensual. Those were some of the aspects of Finn's character that she loved the most. She'd imagined exactly how his lips would settle against hers because she'd memorized their shape. She knew the dip in the center of the upper one that formed a perfect bow. She knew the way they narrowed and tilted in at the corners. His lower lip revealed his mood more easily than any other part of his face, curling in when he was worried, stretching generously when he was pleased.

Yet she couldn't see his lips at all now. He was leaning so close to her, they had blurred.

"Talking's not the best way to explain it," he murmured.

Her mind went blank. "Explain what?"

"Why I pulled off the road."

The road. Right. "I said we could spare a few minutes, but it's too dangerous. The cartel's not going to give up. We have to reach the rendezvous by dawn."

"We'll make the rendezvous, even if I need to carry you the rest of the way."

"Finn…"

He skimmed his thumb over her lower lip. "Do you remember what you said about outlets?"

"What?"

"For emotions." He sifted a lock of her hair through his fingers, then cupped the back of her head. "To relieve tension."

"Uh, I think so."

"Good. Because I can show you something that will feel a lot better than hitting me."

"Finn, maybe we shouldn't—"

"Shut up, Berry."

He'd returned to calling her by her last name, but the tenderness in his voice had made it sound like an endearment.

This was no dream. It appeared he was going to kiss her for real.

Then again, _would_ it be real? Or would it simply be an outlet for his tension, no more genuine than the punches she'd given him?

She'd known all along that these few days of imprisonment would have stirred up painful emotions for Finn. She'd seen evidence of that in his brief displays of ill humor, and in the way his muscles had hardened whenever she'd touched him. The last time he'd escaped from a prison, he'd come home to loneliness and heartbreak.

Was that why he wanted to kiss her? Was he confusing her with Quinn? Was he trying to purge his emotions?

Did it matter?

Hell, no. Rachel would take whatever she could get. Sure, one kiss wouldn't change the pattern of a decade.

But it was a start.

Rachel laid her palms on Finn's chest.

"Don't push me away, Berry." His lips brushed across hers as gently as his whispered words. "Please."

She slid her hands to his shoulders. "Not on your life, Captain Hudson. This could turn out to be one of your better ideas—"

That was all she had time to say before he tightened his grip on the back of her head and fitted his mouth over hers.

* * *

><p>Dreams couldn't compare to reality. In Rachel's fantasies, Finn had never had a three–day's growth of unshaved whiskers that bristled against her skin. There hadn't been a scabbed–over split in his lower lip. He hadn't smelled of dust and gasoline, nor had they been parked on a bean field in a bashed–up, bullet–scarred van.<p>

Yet it made no difference. This was the man she loved. She greedily absorbed every sensation, unlocking her heart to store each detail of the kiss inside. She knew that things could revert to normal when they got home, but she wouldn't think about that now. She didn't want to consider where they were or how much time they had, either, so she laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer.

The van rocked as his knee clunked hard against the gearshift and one elbow tapped the horn. The kiss became a shared smile. Finn drew her lower lip between his teeth and bit down gently. She countered by pinching his earlobes. He licked her nose. She tickled his armpit.

With a growl, he threw one leg over the console, clasped her face in his hands and kissed her as if…

As if he really meant it.

Rachel no longer felt like smiling. She closed her eyes against a rush of tears. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Now that she'd tasted him, how could she be content to be merely his friend?

Finn lifted his head. His breathing was as ragged as hers. "Do you feel that?"

_Yes, Finn, it's love. Two hearts beating together…_

Gradually, she became aware that it wasn't her heartbeat she heard. The van was squeaking. The bumping she felt wasn't from her pulse. It was from the tires rolling across clods of dirt.

"We're moving," Finn said. He pushed himself off her and climbed back behind the wheel. "Guess I knocked it out of gear."

So much for their romantic interlude. She wished she could have laughed. Instead, she wiped her cheeks. "We should get going, anyway."

"Yeah, we—" He swore as he pumped his foot to the floor. "We've got no brakes."

"What?"

"The fire must have melted the lines."

The van nosed downward. Rachel heard the whistle of air past the windows. They were rolling downhill, picking up speed at an alarming rate.

He flicked on the headlights.

They had gone past the field. The headlights reflected from bare rock. Beyond that, there was only darkness.

Rachel dug her fingernails into the dashboard. "Uh, Finn, is that a _cliff?_"

"That's a cliff, all right!" Finn stomped on the clutch, started the van and jammed the gearshift into reverse. The engine screamed. Pebbles and dirt flew from the tires.

For an instant they hung motionless. The edge was no more than twenty yards ahead, a pale line against the dark void of the sky. Rachel tried to convince herself that it would be all right. They'd broken out of jail. They'd dodged bullets. They'd escaped an explosion. There was no way they were going to be done in by gravity. Especially after they'd finally…

She gritted her teeth. She would not think about that kiss.

The darkness was drawing nearer. They'd started to slide forward once more. Finn goosed the engine. He managed to slow their descent, but it was clear now that he couldn't stop it. The tires had spun down to bare rock. They had nothing to grip.

Rachel pushed her feet to the floor, as if she could will the vehicle to stop. She shouted over the noise of the engine. "If you have any more brilliant ideas, this would be a good time."

"Jump. I'll try to keep it steady."

"Did you say—"

"Jump!" he repeated. "Flatten out when you hit. Grab whatever you can."

"What about you?"

He fought to keep the wheel straight. "Tell Eagle Squadron the cartel hired _El Gato._ He's going to kill our envoy to Rocama."

"I don't give a damn about your mission!" she shrieked. "It's not worth your life."

"Get out now. I can't hold it much longer."

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Rach—"

"Open your door, Finn."

"Dammit, the longer you argue, the less chance you'll have."

"I won't leave you!" She pushed her door open. Its weight ripped the handle out of her hand as it fell forward. "We go together or not at all."

"Rachel…"

"On three. Ready?"

"Okay, okay." He was practically standing on the gas pedal now. He shoved open his door. "And you called _me_ certifiable!"

She gripped the doorframe and balanced on the running board. "One! Two!"

Before she could get to three, Rachel felt a hard shove in the center of her back. She was propelled clear of the van. Even as she flew through the air, she realized what Finn had done.

She hit the ground on her side and skidded across the rock until she came to a stop against a jutting boulder. She rolled to her knees just in time to see the van's taillights disappear over the edge of the cliff. "Finn!"

There was no reply. Only the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass. It seemed to go on forever, echoing from the darkness. She crawled to the edge and looked over just as the gas tank exploded. For the second time that night, she had to shield her eyes from a fireball.

Flames lit the floor of a narrow valley. There was no sign of movement among the rocks and scattered wreckage.

No sign of life.

* * *

><p>Rachel stared at the burning wreck below until her eyes stung and her throat swelled shut from the smoke. No one could have survived the fire or the fall from the cliff. In her head, she knew that, but in her heart she wouldn't accept it.<p>

She didn't care how things looked. Finn couldn't be dead. The connection they'd forged was too strong. She would know if it had broken. She would have felt it snap, wouldn't she?

_You'll come back to me, Finn. Just as you did before. I won't give up._

She pushed to her feet and looked around, searching for a way down to the valley floor. The light of the fire didn't reach this far, yet she was able to distinguish more shapes than she had earlier. Streaks of orange tinted the eastern sky. Dawn wasn't far off.

Almost forty–eight hours had passed since she'd heard that Finn had been captured. Two days of agonizing, desperate hope. They couldn't end like this. She wouldn't believe it. "Finn!" she shouted.

Her voice was as raw as her emotions. Nevertheless, she continued to call as she moved along the cliff until she reached the spot where the van had gone over the edge. She traced a skid mark with her toes.

He lied. He never intended to jump with her. He only wanted to give her the extra seconds that had saved her life. The stubborn, maddening, ridiculous man. When she saw him again, she was going to punch him so hard…

But first, she was going to kiss him senseless, as she should have done a long time ago.

Her tears overflowed. They dripped from her chin, they trickled under her collar and they seeped into the corners of her mouth. What a fool she'd been. For ten years she'd been playing it safe and biding her time, but all the armor in the world couldn't protect her from the pain she felt now.

One by one, the excuses she'd hidden behind peeled away. So what if Finn had chosen Quinn first? That had happened before he'd met Rachel. Quinn's connection with him couldn't have been as strong as hers. The fact that Quinn hadn't waited for him proved it. What if Rachel had listened to her heart and had fought for him from the beginning? What if she'd _won?_ She could have saved them all years of heartache.

It wasn't only Finn's fault he continued to view her as a friend. Rachel had never encouraged him to see her any other way. They both were responsible for the pattern of their relationship. For all she knew, he was as dissatisfied with it as she was.

Love, like war, was no place for cowards. She'd been so afraid of losing Finn that she'd never tried to win him.

Too bad the realization had come too late.…

"No!" she said. "I won't believe it." She backed away from the edge of the cliff.

And tripped over Finn's legs.

Rachel windmilled her arms but couldn't regain her balance. She came down beside Finn's hip with her legs draped over his.

He lay on his back in a patch of low brush. Blood smeared a rock beside his head. He looked as lifeless as he'd first seemed in the jail cell.

"Don't you dare die on me, Finn Hudson!" She knelt beside him and touched her fingertips to his neck, searching for a pulse. But her hand was shaking too badly to sense anything. "No way. We're not done yet, baby."

His arms were flung out to his sides, his fingers lax.

"Wake up. It's almost dawn." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it between hers. "We've got to make the rendezvous."

Though he still didn't move, his skin was warm. That had to be a good sign. Sobbing, she pressed her ear to his chest. "Finn, _please._ Don't leave me again."

There was no mistaking the heartbeat that thudded beneath her cheek. She felt its echoes all the way to her soul.

Her tears flowed faster, soaking into her hair and mixing with the dust that covered his skin.

"Rachel?"

She lifted her head, and found herself looking into a pair of brown eyes. "Finn!"

He touched her face. His brow furrowed. "You're crying. What…"

"Are you all right? No, that's a stupid question. Of course, you aren't. You hit your head. There's blood on the rock." She shoved herself off him and dried her face on her sleeve. "I shouldn't be lying on you. You could have broken bones."

He lifted his hand and cautiously probed the back of his head, then flexed his arms and legs. Ignoring her protests, he pushed up on his elbows. "I'm fine. I just got knocked out."

"Like I'm supposed to believe anything you say after you promised you would jump with me."

"I did jump."

She pointed past him. Her arm trembled. "Do you see where you landed? Another split second and you would have gone over the edge!"

He shrugged. "So I can't count."

"You—" The pattern was starting again. Rachel swallowed the retort she wanted to make. Without another word, she braced her hands on the ground beside Finn's shoulders, leaned over and kissed him.

She tried to be careful. He likely had a concussion, and the split in his lip must be sore. But how on earth could she hold back when she'd wasted too many years already?

Finn responded with more enthusiasm than she would have believed possible. In spite of what they'd just gone through—or maybe because of it—he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her firmly down on top of him.

Their bodies nestled together as naturally as if they'd been lovers forever. For a few priceless minutes the world faded…

"What the _hell?_"

The man's voice had come from directly over her shoulder.

Finn rolled Rachel off him and sprang to his feet.

Rachel had been too immersed in the kiss to hear anyone approach. Evidently, so had Finn. Two people stood not two yards away from them. They—and the rifles they held—were silhouetted against the dawn sky.

Had the cartel found them? This was her fault. She'd known they were a long way from safety. She should have realized the potential danger of indulging her feelings. She scrambled to her feet.

Finn placed himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. His fists tightened, but the rest of his muscles seemed oddly relaxed. "Your timing sucks, Chang."

"No, I'd say it was perfect. Better me than Puck. You're already beat up enough."

Rachel belatedly recognized the voice. She looked past Finn's shoulder.

Sergeant Mike Chang gave her a two–fingered salute along with an easy smile. "Hey, Rachel. Is this guy giving you trouble?"

She clutched Finn's arm, her knees suddenly weak. After all the emotions she'd had to deal with in the last forty–eight hours, who would have thought that relief would hit her the hardest?

These people weren't from the police or the cartel. They were soldiers from Eagle Squadron.

"Mike," she said. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

"We followed your phone."

"My phone?"

"We put in a tracking device along with that map."

She looked at Finn. He didn't appear surprised by Mike's revelation. "You guessed?"

"It's what I would have done."

She poked him in the ribs. "That's why you gave it back to me, isn't it?"

"I wanted to make sure you were found," he said, catching her hand. "Where's the rest of the team, junior?"

"Scouting the area," the second person replied. It was Sergeant Santana Lopez, Eagle Squadron's new ordnance specialist. She nodded toward the hill behind them. "Someone else might have noticed the trail of explosions you left. The chopper's waiting over that rise, so if you two are ready…?"

"Let's go," Finn said, scooping Rachel into his arms.

She was too shocked to struggle. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He started up the hill. "I'm carrying you."

The two commandos took up protective positions a few strides away, scanning their surroundings methodically as they moved.

Rachel brought her head closer to Finn's. "Don't be absurd. You're hurt. You probably have a concussion."

"You have no shoes."

"I can walk."

"You'll slow us down."

"You told me chivalry was overrated."

"I like holding you. You got a problem with that?"

The muscles in his arms flexed across her back and under her thighs. Her body rubbed against his chest with each step he took. The scent of warm male enveloped her. She sighed and looped her arm around his neck. "I suppose I could put up with it."

"Good. We need to talk about that kiss."

She glanced at their escort. "Uh, maybe we could discuss it later."

"Not a chance, Berry. This has waited long enough."

Rachel knew how Finn felt. If the last forty–eight hours had taught her anything, it was that time was too precious to squander, and so was love.

The sun crested the horizon, bathing the hillside in warm gold. In its light, Finn's injuries were more apparent than ever. They didn't detract from his handsomeness. To her, they were physical evidence of the strength he had inside. She laid her hand against his cheek. "I've waited a long time to be honest with you, Finn."

He kissed her palm. "You've always been honest."

She shook her head. "You're wrong. I never told you the truth about how I really feel."

He stopped moving and set her on her feet. "You did tell me. You just never put it into words."

"Finn—"

"I work in Intelligence, Rachel. I figured it out years ago, but I'm through waiting for you to face it."

"Face what?"

"That you love me."

"Excuse me, folks. Our ride's set to leave in six minutes."

At Santana's voice, she started. She'd momentarily forgotten about their Eagle Squadron escort. The helicopter was already warming up. The other members of the team were converging on the hill. She spotted her cousin Noah in the distance, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

Finn must have seen him, too. "Do me a favor, Lopez? Keep Puck busy for five."

"That'll be tough. He wants to kill you for getting his little sweet cousin mixed up in your latest prison break."

Rachel whirled on her. "You tell him to mind his own business. This was my choice."

"Some choice," Santana put in. "You threatened to come on your own if we didn't help."

Finn looked at her. "Did you?"

That wasn't all she'd done. The strings she'd pulled to rescue him had reached to the White House. "I might have."

"That proves my point. You've shown me in a hundred different ways that you love me. Coming to rescue me was only one of them."

Mike winked as he moved off. Santana gave Finn a slap on the back that would have felled a smaller man. "You have five minutes," she said. "Make them count."

Finn waited until the pair of commandos had left, then linked his hands behind Rachel's waist and drew her against him. "I don't know why you persist in this friendship thing, but it stops now, understand? A friend doesn't make my blood heat every time she touches me. A friend doesn't haunt my dreams. You love me."

For almost a decade she'd wondered how she'd confess her love to Finn. She'd never imagined _he_ would be telling _her._ "I love you," she repeated.

"Damn right." He rested his forehead against hers. "In case you haven't noticed, I love you, too."

"You love me?"

"Of course! I have loved you for so many years. I wouldn't drive off a cliff for just anyone, you know."

She choked on a sob that turned into a laugh. "Oh, Finn. Let's go home."

"As long as I'm with you, Rachel, we're already there."

_**The End**_

* * *

><p><strong>Look out for upcoming FinchelMonchele stories in the future. I have another one in the works and hopefully, when everything is all settled, I can post it up here. Once again, thank you for reading!**

**xoxo :)**


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